The Fire Inside
by Calico West
Summary: For years Jess has been tormented by fire, but he's always been able to keep his fears hidden, until now.
1. Chapter 1

The Fire Inside

Chapter One

Smoke. Embers. Screams. Heat. There was only one word that came with the descriptions that triggered in Jess' senses. Fire! He jumped from his bed, the burning fingers of the flames already reaching out to him, ready to consume him and those that he loved. Jess heard the terrifying screams and the choking shouts, but he also heard the laughter. That sick, menacing laughter that was just as cruel as the fury of the flames. He ran, searching for those that screamed his name, children and adults alike, looking everywhere but finding nothing but each room engulfed in the inferno. Jess coughed, feeling the choking smoke pour down his throat and into his lungs. The heat blazed against his face, so close that he felt the skin start to burn. His clothes started to peel off of him in strips as the fabric disintegrated from the torching air. The windows were breaking, the shards falling to the floor only to be snatched away by the multiplying embers, but it was this sound that signaled his safety.

Jess hurried to the closest window, but before he jumped through, there on the other side was a face, a laughing, sinister face and he was frozen to the spot as if what was underneath him was a sheet of ice and not blackening boards. Hatred surged through his chest as he stared into those evil eyes as the ceiling began to collapse around him. He wanted to die with those he loved, but he wanted to see the man responsible die even more. Jess leaped through the window, the remaining shards of glass sticking into his body, but neither the pain from the cuts or the burns that seared through his skin was enough to stop his retaliation. He screamed the villain's name, who still stood nearby, laughing his fool head off.

"Bannister!"

Jess jumped for the man, but in his blind rage he failed to see the other members of the notorious gang. Hands clutched his arms and he was thrown to the ground, but as always, he was ready to fight. Jess thrashed, but the smoke swirled so thickly overhead he couldn't even see the faces of those that hovered over him, ready to finish off what the fire didn't do. He kicked, not caring what or who he hit, but before he could feel any ounce of victory, someone was pulling him to his feet. The smoke cleared as his eyes opened, a face inches away from his own. He balled his hand into a fist and swung, the sound of making impact was loud in his ears and the thud against the wall brought everything around him to its normal imagery.

No smoke. No embers. No screams. No heat. Only a dream, a stupid, senseless dream. Jess put his hand, a hand that he didn't want to admit was quivering, over his eyes as he took in several gulps of cool, untarnished air and felt a presence that wasn't menacing or evil. He pulled his hand away from his face and looked up at Slim, the welt alongside his jaw evident even without a lamp lit.

"Are you all right, Jess?" Slim asked, forcing his hand to not touch his throbbing face where Jess had unintentionally struck him. There was no point emphasizing the fact that his best friend had belted him out of fear. "You were having a nightmare."

"Bannister," Jess said the name coldly, each syllable laced with pronounced vengeance.

"Frank Bannister is dead, Jess," Slim put his hand on his partner's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. "Remember? When you were at Fort Defiance, you fought with Clint Gentry and his whole crew of men, and Bannister and every single member of his gang were killed. Gentry and Marshal Tram took Bannister down together."

"Yeah," Jess nodded, blinking his eyes several times as if the action would wipe away the images that had burned into his mind in his dream, but they remained, smolderingly evident. "I remember." He would never forget the hard journey chasing down Frank Bannister and his entire gang for over two weeks only to get caught in the middle of a deep river without any expectations of getting out alive when he and Marshal Tram finally caught up with them. While running on foot to the fort, Jess took a bullet from one of Bannister's men, sidelining him enough that when the final fight began, he couldn't put an end to the man who murdered his family. Jess turned his eyes back to Slim, reaching for anything that would change the subject and his gaze latched onto Slim's bruised face. "Did you fall outta bed or something?"

"No," Slim shook his head. "I had the unfortunate situation of putting my face in direct contact with a tightly clenched fist."

"Mine?" Jess questioned softly, staring at the discolored mark still growing and he slowly reached out his hand as if to touch it but then quickly brought his hand back to his side, the guilt of his action that was brought on by the enemies that swarmed around in his dreams. It was only then that he realized that his hand hurt to open and close it, the feeling of pain brought with it more emotions than guilt.

"This is the third night this week that you've had a nightmare, Jess," Slim watched Jess' every movement, the concern for his partner growing with each action. "This one must have been the worst, considering the way you lashed out."

"So what?" Jess stood up abruptly, feeling the need to flee, from Slim, from the nightmare, from everything. "I ain't always gotta have dreams of whiskey and roses do I?"

"No," Slim began but Jess taking firm steps out of the bedroom door stopped him from going further with his statement.

"Then lay off," Jess turned and gave Slim a sharp look before storming out into the night.

Slim followed as far as the front door, but he didn't exit the house, wanting to give Jess the privacy he was seeking. There was no moon, but he could see Jess' silhouette swiftly move towards the barn. When Jess closed the barn door behind him, Slim figured that he wasn't saddling up, but planning on spending the rest of the night with the animals, amongst company that wouldn't ask him overly sensitive questions. Slim stood still for several minutes and as silence remained outdoors, he turned to find Daisy standing alone outside of her bedroom.

"Was it that bad?" Daisy asked softly, the worry lines firmly etched around her eyes.

"The worst," Slim answered as he stepped towards the anxious woman.

"Your face," Daisy reached up and touched Slim's swollen jaw. "It must have been bad for him to do this to you."

"He didn't know he was doing it, Daisy," Slim grimaced slightly as Daisy touched the wound and then sighed after she released his chin. "In his dream, my face was Frank Bannister's."

"Poor Jess," Daisy said, wringing her hands together. "At least Mike slept through this one. The last dream Jess had scared that boy so much he didn't even want to eat breakfast the next morning. I wish there was something we could do."

"I've tried talking to him," Slim shrugged, "but you know Jess, when something's bothering him, he doesn't want it to come out in the open, but just lets it fester until it's ready to explode."

"Maybe tonight was that explosion and it'll be over soon," Daisy looked hopeful despite Slim's doubtful face.

"I'm afraid this is just the beginning, Daisy," Slim said as he rubbed his tender jaw, his mind back at the moment when Jess had struck him, seeing the terrifying look in his partner's eyes. "Jess has a fight on his hands, but the thing is, the fight is with himself, deep down inside where no one else can see."

Slim turned his head towards the closed door, wishing Jess would come through it with a smile on his face, but he knew that his best friend wouldn't be doing so any time soon. He gave Daisy's shoulder a squeeze and then they both returned to their bedrooms, uncertain if sleep would find either of them the remainder of the night. For certain, one member of the household would remain wide eyed until dawn.

Jess stood silently next to his faithful companion, the horse he'd named Traveler. His mount didn't seem surprised to see him, but welcomed him with a soft nuzzle as the gentle animal could sense his tense alarm. He was grateful for something to lend aid, as it was too much just yet for Slim, for Daisy, for anyone to help with even if his family in the Sherman household had the best of intentions. One needed every part of what was broken to help put the tattered remains together and Jess knew that his loved ones inside of the house couldn't see all of the pieces, because Jess hadn't chosen to reveal them. He didn't even want to see them.

It might seem strange to others, Jess was uncertain how to define it himself, but after all of the years since his traumatic loss as a fifteen year old kid, only now had the vicious memories reemerged. Jess sighed, knowing the exact source of his trouble. Frank Bannister. True, he was the beginning, but then again, it was so much more. Slim was right, Bannister was dead and had been for a long time, but fire had recently come alive again and it came at him far more fiercely than the painful fear he'd remembered in the past. How long it would hold onto him now was unknown.

Jess hated feeling this way. He had spent years growing, fighting, toughening his body and mind with grit that came with a life running wild, a life completely on the run, and a life finally finding happiness there at the Sherman ranch. Everywhere in between was spent feeling like he was building a determined wall that separated him from his boyhood, growing tougher with each calendar change until he felt like he was stronger than ever before. But Jess knew he would never be stronger than fire. With greater force than how he'd struck Slim, Jess slammed his fist into the sturdy boards of his horse's stall. The pain that shot through his hand when he flexed it back open was intense, yet it somehow didn't match the sting as it had when that same fist had landed in Slim's face. He dropped his head and if he'd still been a young man of fifteen, Jess Harper would have cried.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Sunrise was a welcoming sight. Slim gazed through the window and felt relieved when he saw Jess already at work. Daisy was in the kitchen, the noises and smells a clear indication that breakfast was being made. He gave a smile to Mike who walked out of his room with a yawn and then he opened the front door, exiting the cozy room to meet with whatever mood Jess would be in.

"Morning, Pard," Jess said without much feeling in his voice as he watched Slim walk from the house, coming towards his position. Jess stood near the corral, the harnesses for the teams that would need to be changed for the first stage being held loosely in his hands.

"How do you feel this morning?" Slim asked and then when he saw Jess' blue eyes narrow, he knew he shouldn't have asked.

"Grouchy," Jess answered a terse reply, putting his gaze immediately away from Slim's caring eyes as his single word description likely would define his entire day.

"I'm sorry, Jess," Slim reached his hands out to take the harnesses. "I'll forget what happened in the night."

"Good," Jess said, dropping the harnesses into Slim's outstretched hands, "'cause I reckon only one of us can." He turned away, his steps taking him into the barn where this time he did saddle his mount and without a further glance in Slim's direction, Jess rode away on Traveler, heading out on the north trail in a steady gallop. He hadn't wanted to leave, but as soon as the emotional battle was set in place, there was only one reaction and that was to run.

"Where's Jess going to in such a hurry?" Daisy asked from the porch. "I was just about to announce that breakfast was ready."

"I don't know, Daisy," Slim shook his head, watching as Jess disappeared out of sight. "He probably doesn't even know, just that he's running."

"He can't run from fear for long, can he?" Daisy turned to look through the doorway to make sure Mike was still seated at the table and out of earshot.

"Unfortunately Daisy," Slim paused, his words filled with compassion for his troubled partner, "Jess has been running from this fear since he was fifteen years old, just for whatever reason, now it's got a hold of him again."

"Oh," Daisy sighed, feeling moisture form in her eyes. "If only there was a way to help him get through this. It pains me so to see him this way."

"I'm going to eat my breakfast in a hurry, Daisy," Slim put his hand on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture. "As soon as the morning stage leaves I'm heading into Laramie. Maybe Doc Sweeney has an idea. When Jess gets back," Slim paused very slightly, not wanting to think it even possible that he said the wrong words and that it could have been stated as _if Jess gets back_ , "let him know where I went, but don't tell him why."

"All right, Slim," Daisy nodded as they both turned into the house. "I hope you get a positive answer."

Slim hoped the same, and he continued to hope as he waited for Doc Sweeney's return to Laramie as the physician had been out on a call when Slim had rode into town. He spent a dull thirty minutes pushing a glass of whiskey back and forth between his hands before finally downing the bitter liquid, refusing a second that was offered by the intoxicated man next to him and then finally exiting the saloon. Slim turned in both directions and was relieved to see the doctor's carriage rolling into town.

"Doc," Slim walked quickly towards the doctor when the older gentleman stopped outside of his office, "may I have a word with you?"

"Certainly Slim, what seems to be the matter? You look healthy and strong as always," Doc Sweeney reached out a hand to Slim but it was only gently shaken without its normal enthusiasm.

"It's not me, Doc," Slim answered, his voice portraying his distress before the words came from his mouth. "It's Jess."

"Surely he's not sick," the doctor raised his eyebrows at Slim's frown, "I don't think I've ever treated him for anything other than a gunshot wound. Healthiest patient I've ever come across."

"It's not physical," Slim shook his head, "actually I'm not sure what to call it. Something in his mind."

"His mind?" Doc Sweeney developed his own puzzled frown. "You're going to have to expound, Slim."

"Jess has been having nightmares," Slim explained, noticing the jab of guilt that speaking aloud Jess' problem gave him, especially since it was without his permission, "they've all been about his experience as a youngster when the outlaw Frank Bannister and his gang torched the Harper's house. If you recall, most of his family didn't make it out alive."

"Nightmares," Doc Sweeney shook his head slowly back and forth, feeling the trouble that poured from Slim's shadowed eyes hit him in his own. "Everyone has them, even someone as strong-willed as Jess. How bad are they?"

"They're intense, Doc," Slim motioned towards the bruise near his chin. "This was the result of last night's dream."

"You know," Doc Sweeney rubbed his mustache before continuing, "I've been reading some articles recently published by a doctor back east that did extensive studies on men during and after the war. They all suffered from consequences from the fighting that lasted weeks, months and even years after the war was over. Brutal nightmares, flashbacks, anxiety, tremors, chest pains and some with even more symptoms, but when examined, there was found nothing physically wrong with the men. It's something going on inside of the brain, which unfortunately, us doctor's can't properly tap into. Jess went through an extreme trauma when his folks died, it's only natural that he has some repercussions. When did Jess' nightmares start?"

"Let's see," Slim scratched the back of his neck as he thought back over the disrupted nights during the past week. "Today's Thursday, he had one last night. The previous one was Monday, so the first must have been Saturday night."

"Makes sense," the doctor nodded. "Saturday afternoon was when the Garrett family's house burned down. If I heard the stories correctly, Jess was in town when it started and he was one of the first to arrive on the scene to help rescue the family."

"I suppose that could trigger his memories," Slim replied thoughtfully. "But Doc, Jess has been around fires before this recently. He was out helping Lars Carlson in the middle of the forest fire last summer. He almost burned in a couple of different house fires, one while he was in Chloride trying to find the man who shot Mike and another one a few years ago when he was trying to help an old miner friend. None of those events bothered him enough to bring on severe nightmares. In fact, when he spoke of them it was rather nonchalantly, almost being as calm as when he relates one of his gunfights. Why would this fire affect him any differently?"

"Were you in town during the blaze?" Doc Sweeney asked, feeling that he might have the answer to Slim's question.

"No," Slim shook his head, "I was out at the ranch. I heard about it from one of the stage drivers not long after it happened."

"Sheriff Cory stayed with Mrs. Garrett, helping to console the poor woman while I worked on her boy and I heard the gory details right from Mort. There are three Garrett kids, the oldest is eleven, the middle eight and the youngest is four. It was the youngster that I had to treat for several burns, had to shave away most of the hair on his head in the process. All three of those kids were in the house when it went up in flames, Slim. From the way Mort described it, they were screaming at the top of their lungs, as was Mrs. Garrett, who was near hysteria outside of the house. She'd been working in her vegetable garden when she smelled smoke but couldn't get back inside through the main doorway. Mort said Jess was there, although he had no knowledge of what Jess did, if anything, but we know that two men went into the burning house to rescue the kids and one of them could have been Jess. No one stepped up at the end to admit to their heroism and the kids couldn't recall who it was either. The oldest boy was able to run out on his own but the two younger ones had to be carried to safety. The little one, well, considering where his worst burns were, if he'd been in there much longer, we'd be adding a gravestone to the cemetery."

"It was the kids," Slim nodded, remembering Jess' details of the horror he faced at fifteen word by word. The description of the screams had been enough to make him shudder and Slim had never heard it at all. "That must have been the trigger. Jess is sensitive to little kid's emotions anyway, but the screaming and the fire together was too much. Now he's reliving it all again through nightmares."

"It could happen to anyone," Doc Sweeney nodded with a sigh, "but with his past, Jess is definitely more susceptible."

"Is there anything I can do to help him with this," Slim paused, not knowing how to title what Jess was going through, "problem?"

"From what I understand, there's no real cure, only time," Doc Sweeney looked at Slim with compassion, knowing how difficult this situation was for him, especially now that he didn't have the greatest news to share.

"Doc," Slim's voice took on a more desperate tone, "I can't just sit by and do nothing. He won't talk to me about it and won't listen to me when I try, but there's got to be something."

"I don't know, Slim," Doc Sweeney rubbed his chin, "perhaps a change of scenery will help."

"That's exactly what I'd like to avoid," Slim shook his head, imagining Jess taking off to parts unknown and not seeing him for weeks or months, if not longer. "I don't need Jess as far as Denver, Billings, or anywhere else."

"No, no," Doc Sweeney answered quickly, putting a hand on Slim's arm, "I didn't mean something so drastic. Just getting him off of the ranch, away from the bedroom where the nightmares occurred for a week or so might be all that he needs. That can be as simply as having him stay at the boarding house up the street."

"I don't know, Doc," Slim frowned, feeling doubtful that the doctor's suggestion might work. If he explained to Jess why he wanted him to spend a week in Laramie, his partner might not be obliging if he knew he talked to the doctor about his nightmares without his approval. "I guess that's something I'll have to think on."

At that moment, shouting from the edge of town grabbed the attention of Slim and the doctor along with everyone else that lined the street. All heads turned towards the rider that sped into view, his one word exclamation was enough to get dozens of different feet running in action.

"Fire!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The word spread quickly from mouth to mouth until an entire sentence was put together, announcing the destruction that was going on a few miles out of town. "The Detering house is on fire!"

Slim jumped to his horse and met Sheriff Cory near the edge of Laramie and the two of them led a large group of men, ready to help fight the fire in any way possible, towards the Detering farmhouse. The smoke, black and billowing, rising high in the sky, gave a clear enough indication that what they'd find upon arrival would be the home fully engulfed. Slim pulled his horse to such a rapid halt when his eyes finally took in the scene that Alamo skidded in the dust. There was nothing left but a smoldering pile of rubble and a single man standing alongside the blistering debris. Jess.

Mort started hollering instructions as soon as his feet landed on the ground, but Slim walked towards Jess. He stepped alongside his partner, unsure of what reaction he'd receive at his presence, and then he raised his hand to gently touch Jess' back. Jess turned, his eyes were red and puffy but completely dry and looked at Slim, sadly shaking his head. Slim knew without words spoken what Jess was conveying but it was only a few moments later that one of the men in the bucket brigade gave the bitter proclamation. Both Mr. and Mrs. Detering, an older but beloved couple, had burned to death.

Slim and Jess joined in with the effort of depleting what was left of the flames, but as soon as the fire was reduced to coals, Jess walked silently towards his mount a short distance away, hopped into the saddle and turned his horse towards home. No one seemed to notice his departure except for Slim, who hadn't turned his eyes away from his partner much since he'd first spotted him standing so close to the burning home. Before Jess rode completely out of sight, Slim gave a quick explanation to Mort why he was leaving and then hurried his own horse after Jess.

Jess knew Slim was coming beside him, but didn't turn to look at him, just kept Traveler going forward at a slow, but steady pace. Slim being there with him was important, yet Jess wasn't the type to admit a feeling as simple as that, so he kept his gaze forward, but inside of his heavy heart, a small smile flickered. They stayed silent for an hour and only started speaking when a sage grouse flushed in front of them, making both men and their horses flinch. Instead of remarking on the sight of the winged creature's sudden hasty exit, the words started coming forward about the fire.

Jess didn't have to say one word to describe the scene as it was still showing itself vividly in his mind and pounding inside of his chest with an intense pressure of suppressed grief, but he knew Slim needed to know and he was the only one able to relay the story. He opened his mouth to tell Slim, but while the words of description were filling Slim's ears, every other part of Jess was reliving the event, one grueling second at a time. Even though his body was atop Traveler pointing towards the ranch house, his being had stepped a few hours backwards in time.

Jess rode Traveler towards Laramie after Daisy told him of Slim's whereabouts, needing the camaraderie of his best friend more than wanting to talk about what he really had on his mind, something that he still wasn't ready to reveal. He was just coming through a crossroads when his nose began to burn with the acrid odor of smoke. Jess wanted to dismiss the scent, his first thoughts turning to the darkness of night, since he'd been haunted in his sleep far too many nights with the same irritation, but when the ashy plume began to rise above the trees he knew there was no ignoring what was happening.

Jess kicked Traveler into a hard gallop, aiming for the source of the smoke. He hated fire, of course all nature, man and beast included, could say the same, but for Jess, the hatred held a bitterness that not everyone could relate to. He could have rode away from the fire, pretending that he was nowhere near, but Jess could never run from anything that needed saving, it was rooted in his nature like how a mighty tree spread its roots into the depths of the earth.

He knew the Detering's place was in the direction of the ever darkening smoke and the closer Jess came, he was more aware of what was on fire. The barn was still standing, but it was the house that was out of control. He left Traveler a safe distance away from the buildings and ran towards the fire. The roar of the flames exploded in his ears, a sound that had never been forgotten that always came with a hiss of laughter from a window of his memory. There was another sound, this even more cruel that came from inside, choking, fitful coughing amid a pitiful cry for help.

Jess filled a bucket full of water and doused the front door and then kicked it open wide. There was nothing to see but flames. Furniture, walls, the floor, everything was on fire. He put an arm over his face and could barely make out a figure lying underneath a window, but this one he could tell even with his obstructive view that it was lifeless. The coughing was faint and then suddenly went silent and then his eyes went upward to see the ceiling dissolve in a mass of orange fury. His feet moved backwards, escaping the inferno before it reached far enough to claim another life. He stood still outside of the house, unaware of how much time passed, barely noticing the pounding hooves coming in his direction, only turning his face once he knew Slim was beside him.

Now Jess was back on the road towards home, the last bend that would wind down to the ranch house in sight. The silence that followed Jess' account surrounded them like a cloud of darkness, not even being dispelled when Mike rushed from the house to warmly welcome his favorite guardian back home. Jess patted the boy on the head, looking past his imploring eyes as he strode towards the barn, leading his faithful mount behind him.

"What's the matter with Jess?" Mike asked, looking up at Slim with wide, almost fearful eyes.

"Jess has a mighty heartache right now, Mike," Slim eased himself to a knee to look Mike in the eyes. "He needs us to love him and encourage him, but he also needs us to give him some room to wriggle around in his emotions. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Mike dropped his head as he too, was familiar with heartache. "I know how he feels, I think. I'll hug him, but only when he wants me to." Mike smiled, more warmly perhaps than what he felt inside, and then darted back inside of the house.

Slim returned to his feet and watched Jess through the open barn door, wishing at that moment that he was only a child that could walk up to the burdened man and wrap his arms around him like Mike suggested he would do. Slim did walk toward Jess, only to perform the same task that Jess was doing and not embrace him, tending to his mount to give him the proper treatment the horse deserved after the weary ride home.

After darkness sealed the end of the day, Slim eased himself into his bunk. He'd left a lamp lightly burning on the dresser at Daisy's suggestion, hoping that the little bit of light might help Jess' dreams from turning into nightmares. About an hour after he closed his eyes, Slim heard the bed beside him begin to creak and Slim raised himself up on one elbow to look at Jess, afraid that the vivid images had returned. However, even in the dimly lit room, Slim could clearly see the eyes of his partner wide open. His restlessness was evident, but it wasn't sleep this time that had him disturbed. Slim dropped back to lying on his side, watching Jess' fitful movements in his bed, only stopping once one of his legs dropped to the floor. This brought Jess' hand to clench tightly around the edge of the blanket that partially covered him and then it was thrust into a corner as his body swung upright and then with quickened steps, Jess was through the bedroom door and out into the night.

Slim got up and walked towards the window, watching as Jess paced near the corral, knowing that there would be no sleep for either of them that night. He sighed, remembering the words of Doc Sweeney earlier in the day and pondered the wise man's recommendation. A change of scenery. If it would help his best friend he had to try it. Slim would do anything that would aid in the healing of Jess' unseen wounds, even if he had to have a chunk of his skin ripped out when his partner retaliated with the suggestion with not just the bark, but the bite.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"I've been at a loss in how to help Jess, Mort," Slim sat in the sheriff's office after attending the Detering's funeral. It hadn't surprised him when Jess had declined to go and with him staying home, it gave Slim an opportunity to take his need to help Jess one step further. Slim tugged on his necktie so that it unraveled, hanging loosely around his collar. He kept his hand clenched longer than necessary on the edge of the tie and Mort noticed immediately that his friend showed signs of grave concern. "Doc Sweeney had a suggestion, and I'd like to try it, but it'll involve you, too."

"How so, Slim?" Mort sat opposite Slim, his dark eyes looking intently into the face of the younger man. "You know I'd do anything to help the both of you."

"Doc thinks if Jess has a change of scenery, it might help with his…" Slim paused, still not knowing how to reference Jess' problem. The doctor said it was a condition of his mind, but he'd never want to paint a picture of Jess being slow or dimwitted as most men attributed a mind altering condition. He frowned, looking down at his feet and then he cleared his throat. "Well, with his dilemma. I want him close, but not at the ranch for at least a week and I was wondering if you'd deputize Jess."

Mort rubbed his hand over his face, understanding what Slim was asking of him. He'd do it in a heartbeat any other time, but there was a problem looming over his head that he was concerned would harm Jess more than help him. He shuffled the papers on his desk until he found the notice that he'd received from a U.S. Marshal in Nebraska and then handed the lengthy worded page to Slim, watching as the light colored eyebrows rose as he read.

"Arson?" Slim looked up at Mort as he dropped the paper back onto the sheriff's desk. "You think this is an arsonist like what happened in Nebraska a few weeks ago?"

"I can't rule it out," Mort sighed, restacking the papers that had gone astray as he'd searched. "This isn't the only incident either. About a month ago up in the Dakota's nearly half a town was destroyed by a fire bug. The law could never lay hands on the fool that lit them all off. What happened in Nebraska was eerily similar and after the fire at both the Garrett's and Detering's places I inquired if the one who'd done the burning had ever been caught and as you just read, the answer is no."

"Couldn't these two fires be unrelated and just an accident?" Slim asked, tapping his fingers on his thigh, feeling the agitation rise in his chest. If there really was an arsonist loose somewhere in Laramie, then Jess wouldn't be safe from his fears no matter where he was placed, unless he left town completely and that was out of the question.

"It's possible," Mort said, leaning back in his chair. "The oldest Garrett kid admitted to his mother that none of the kids were paying attention to the cook stove like they'd promised they'd do while she was out gardening and no one mentioned seeing or hearing anything abnormal just before the fire broke out. But it's the Detering's that has me the most concerned. I was rummaging around in the rubble long into the dark that night and I found shards of glass outside on the ground behind the house where no windows were placed. When I bent down to examine them, I was certain I smelled kerosene."

"That could easily be explained as a lamp that was left on the back porch or hanging on a wall," Slim pointed out while Mort nodded his head. "I've seen fires blow items away from the house like an explosion when they're as hot as that one was."

"True," Mort agreed, wishing he really had solid evidence, "but it's my job to wonder."

"And while you're wondering about fire and arsonists, Jess shouldn't be underfoot," Slim sighed and stood up, his right hand resting on the back of his neck as he contemplated what his next move should be. He had come to Mort with a genuine feeling of hope inside of him, but now, that hopefulness was quickly dwindling. He turned away from Mort but heard the lawman move his chair backwards and then a moment later, a firm hand touched his arm.

"I want to help, Slim," Mort said, watching the lines of concern that were etched into Slim's face. "Let's give this thing a few days to see if anything else develops. If there is no new evidence pointing towards arson, then bring Jess on over."

"And if there is?" Slim turned his head, but kept his feet planted on the floor and bore his eyes into the gentle, but firmly set face of the sheriff.

"Then may God have mercy on all of us for what's about to come," Mort said slowly, watching the anxious reaction that flickered in Slim's eyes as he spoke his words. "Fire could just as well touch us all before this thing is over."

Slim returned home, keeping his conversation with Mort completely quiet. There was no point riling up Jess about the possibility of a temporary relocation to Laramie when it was still uncertain if it would even happen. There was also no point in adding to Jess' fears by giving him the news that Mort suspected an arsonist as being the cause of the fires. Slim didn't like to keep important information from Jess, but considering the current circumstances, as grim as they were he figured it was for the best.

For two long days Slim waited for word about a new fire or any other suspicious activities in the area, but none came. From what he understood by the stage driving gossip chain, townspeople were already beginning to relax. Slim rode into Laramie early in the morning, ready to take the next step in the quest to help Jess, since the inner turmoil that his partner faced hadn't been diminished in the slightest bit. Slim walked into Mort's office, receiving an immediate supportive nod from the lawman upon his entry. There was no way to know if what they were hopeful to do in getting Jess to stay would help him or not, but both were willing, but the greatest hitch could come when the news was relayed to Jess. His reaction had the possibility to bring the plan to a complete halt before it even began.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

With a list for some needed supplies tucked in his pocket, Jess rode to town unaware that his trip would end much differently than it had started. He entered the main street of Laramie and dismounted near the store, his feet taking him directly into the building and quickly out as the short list penned in Daisy's handwriting was readily filled. Jess hadn't made any plans to stay in town for long, but with the need to let his mount rest longer than just a few minutes, he thought he'd turn his feet in the direction of the saloon to wash down any trail dust that had accumulated on the ride in to Laramie, but like plans often did, his was altered a moment later.

"Jess," Mort called from the hitching rail outside of the sheriff's office where he'd been keeping his eye on his town while watching for Jess' arrival, grateful that the town and its outlying areas had been peaceable since the Detering fire. He saw Jess pause his stride and turn his head towards him, both men giving each other a question filled stare before Mort took the first step in Jess' direction. "I'd like a word with you if you don't mind."

Being friends with a lawman of any kind would never have been a part of a young Jess Harper's lifestyle, but he couldn't say the same now. Even though it sometimes still wasn't easy for a man with a past reputation such as his to fully put it behind him when it came to lawmen and their scrutiny of his character, Mort Cory was a different type of man. He was trustworthy. But for an unknown reason to Jess, seeing Mort's stance and hearing the tone of his voice, the old outlaw senses inside of him triggered. Although now he really had nothing to be guilty of, Jess carried a weight on his shoulders, or perhaps it was only a chip, but the burden bore down hard and he knew it was spreading out beyond the ranch. He couldn't help but wonder if now the law was to become involved in this, his lashing out would not be far from his next step.

"Jess," Mort said again as he stepped close, watching the intense, scrutinizing blue eyes. "I hope you don't mind my asking for a favor."

"What is it, Mort?" Jess asked, not yet giving himself permission to relax.

"I've got my hands overly full of law work right now and could be heading out of town on a moment's notice," Mort stopped there, giving a quick glance in the direction of the telegraph office where the notice, if any, would come from. He wasn't lying to Jess, as there had been a wire of importance from Cheyenne that stated the nearby town might require his assistance, but at that moment, since he hadn't heard anything new from Slim, he wasn't ready to admit that it was just an excuse to get Jess interested in stepping away from the ranch for a few days. "So, I was wondering if you'd wear a star for me, maybe just for a week, perhaps a little longer."

"I reckon there ain't a problem with that," Jess nodded his agreement, "but I'll have to check with Slim, just in case there's something he needs me for."

"Slim's already given his approval," Mort said and quickly regretted his comment when Jess' eyebrows rose. There was something undefined in Jess' features that made Mort wince. The man was a lot farther on edge than he had originally deduced. Seeing the mistrust or whatever it was that radiated from Jess' eyes didn't make Mort want to take back his offer to help, but he knew that he'd have to take more careful steps in doing so when their days together would begin.

"Then if it's all right with Slim, it's all right with me," Jess said, his tone level, not showing the sudden agitation he really felt inside. He never liked discovering that anyone, friend or foe alike, had discussed him without knowledge and he couldn't help but feel that there was something hidden or secretive about the entire scheme. He wouldn't question Mort about it, but Slim would be hearing some words. "I'll be in tomorrow morning, Mort."

Jess rode home, the calm atmosphere around him doing nothing to settle his nerves. He pulled his mount to a halt outside of the house, his eyes instantly searching for his partner. Jess heard him before he saw him and after dismounting, Jess took a swift stride to where Slim kneeled inside of the barn, pounding a new board in place at the bottom of an empty horse stall.

"You trying to get rid of me, Slim?" Jess asked as he came to a stop behind Slim, his stance firm and unmoving, except for his right hand that forever clenched and released on repeat.

Slim turned, standing to his full height and looked at Jess, seeing every ounce of agitation in his body. He knew by his few words that Jess had talked to Mort and not knowing the exchange between the two, Slim was uncertain how to reply. He tried to smile to soften the tension, but the returned stare was too deep and penetrating, too filled with pain to bring the corners of his mouth up very far. Slim wondered at that moment if he'd made a mistake, but as soon as that thought came, the more important one pushed through. Jess needed help and right now, this was all that he could do. "Of course not, Jess."

"But you know Mort wants to deputize me," Jess said, the frown lines etched deeply around his mouth all the way up to his forehead. "Meaning I'd be off the ranch for a few days, if not longer."

Slim nodded as he drew in a slow intake of air. Their relationship as friends was too close to tell Jess a falsehood. Until now, Slim hadn't thought out his replies when the questions came, but as he faced Jess, he knew the only right way was to share with his partner the truth, even if what followed was a messy tirade. "It was my idea," Slim said softly, watching as Jess' eyes drew to a slit. "You and I both know you've got some problems to work through and as much as I want to help do it myself, I don't think I can."

"But Mort can?" Jess snapped the question like he was snapping a twig in half, the sound somehow bringing a sting to Slim's face.

"No," Slim shook his head, not taking his eyes away from Jess' tight features, especially the firmly set jaw. "No one probably can. It's not a guarantee, but a change of pace, a change of surroundings, a change in routine might actually help you."

"Who told you that?" The question couldn't have possibly been asked any sharper.

Here it came. Slim took a deep breath, knowing the answer wasn't going to set well with his partner. "Doc Sweeney."

"You talked to Doc Sweeney about me?" Jess raised his voice but not so much that it'd raise the roof. "Who else did you tell? Did you trot through a parade in the middle of Laramie shouting 'Jess Harper's going crazy'?"

"No, Jess," Slim's sigh was almost inaudible. "You know me better than that. The only people that know are the family here, Mort, and our town physician, all who you know wouldn't tell a soul."

"I'm sorry Slim," Jess ran a hand through his already tousled hair. "I'm just so dad-gummed jittery."

"You don't have to apologize, Jess," Slim said softly, "I understand."

"Do you?" Jess heard the volume start to rise in his voice again. "Do you really know what I'm going through? Have you ever been afraid to go to sleep? Have you ever felt tortured by something that only exists in your mind? Do you hear noises that ain't there, or smell smoke that's only in your imagination? Or how about this one, do you feel the burning of your skin when there ain't anything even touching it?"

Slim stood quietly, his body feeling the questions Jess hurtled at him like he was receiving each one with a blow by blow punch. Truthfully, he hadn't, but if he wanted to be fully honest, he could tell Jess that he experienced a difficult journey in the aftermath of his parents' deaths. He'd spent some sleepless nights after waking up from fitful dreams. But this wasn't about him and so he kept his memories to himself, letting Jess expel the tension the best that he could through his hardened words.

"Do you think I wanna have nightmares about fires? The dreams are so vivid that it's like they're really happening until I wake up," Jess continued, his hands balled into tight fists by his sides. "I ain't a little boy anymore, yet by the way that I feel, I might as well be one. I'm scared of the dark, I jump from shadows and it's all because of Bannister and evil scum like him. I can't get rid of my past, Slim, no matter what I do and now it's chasing me down like never before. I work hard all day long on the ranch busting my back trying to stop the memories from coming at me, but there I'll be, right in the middle of something and outta nowhere, I'll hear Bannister laughing or smell smoke that ain't there. It's driving me crazy, Slim. I'd do anything to get rid of it."

"I know, Jess," Slim tentatively reached out a hand and touched Jess' back, feeling the tight tension between his pinched shoulder blades.

"Maybe you're right, Slim," Jess frowned as his thoughts turned in the direction of seeking solace from somewhere. He kept his gaze towards the hay strewn floor of the barn as he slowly spoke his next words. "I reckon I do need some kinda help. If you think staying in town will work, I'll give it a try."

"Good," Slim stepped closer to Jess and put his arm around his partner's shoulder. "For the next several days we might be twelve miles apart, but know this Jess, you have my complete support. I'm with you right here Pard," Slim tapped his chest over his heart with his finger, "all the way."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Jess stood next to the sheriff's desk as Mort shuffled through the top drawer to reveal a deputy's badge. Jess didn't know how many times he'd already worn the familiar star, but every time it was pinned in place he had a strange feeling come over him. It wasn't power, but a satisfaction that stemmed from his middle that proved even a rough hand like he was could be reformed enough to work for the law. Jess knew several men from his past that would have laughed until they were blue in the face if they could see him now. But he really wasn't there to make any adversary take notice, but to somehow put the one that was inside of him to rest.

"There you are, Jess," Mort said after he positioned the star over Jess' shirt pocket. "Coffee's fresh and hot on the stove if you'd like some."

"Thanks Mort," Jess walked to the stove and filled a cup with the strong coffee and as he put the steaming liquid to his lips, the door to the sheriff's office was opened and Mort's nephew, Johnny Hartley entered.

"Hi, Uncle Mort, Jess," Johnny nodded to each man as he closed the door behind him. "I was just waiting for Carol to finish some shopping before I take her home and wanted to stop in and see if you needed anything."

"Not that I can think of," Mort smiled as he shook his head. "Jess is going to be wearing a badge for me for a few days in case I get called over to Cheyenne, but right now, from the looks of the town, it seems pretty law abiding at the moment."

"If things change, you know, I could always lend a hand," Johnny offered, looking first to his uncle and then to Jess.

"I appreciate that, Johnny," Mort smiled, putting his hand on his nephew's shoulder. "But Jess and I can handle the town all right by ourselves, but if anything big comes up, we'll let you know."

"All right," Johnny looked out the window to see his wife exiting the mercantile. "There's Carol, I guess I'll be going then. See you both tonight."

"See you then, Johnny," Mort gave a wave to his nephew.

"He still wanna wear a star, Mort?" Jess asked after Johnny exited the office.

"Not like he used to," Mort crossed his arms over his chest. "He still comes around and pokes his nose in some of the wanted posters, but after getting shot a few months ago, he doesn't have the same desires, but I suppose that's to be expected. From what Carol's been talking about recently, her sister and brother-in-law have a dry goods store up in Montana and they want Johnny to partner up with them and I think they're going to try it. It's about time that nephew of mine gets out on his own. Oh, I haven't minded letting them stay with me since they married, you know it would've been rather awkward them staying with her folks. Anyway, since I'm busy with my job so much it's like they have the place to themselves mostly except at night, but it'll be good for them to get a place that's truly their own."

"You'll miss them though if they go," Jess said with a smile curling the corner of his mouth and then he reached out a finger and poked Mort in the stomach. "You'll especially miss Carol's good cooking."

"You won't catch me lying," Mort laughed and slapped Jess' hand away from his midsection. "Of course you won't be complaining when we head over to the house for supper tonight. I heard something about spareribs when I was heading out the door this morning."

"It's always a pleasure to eat a good meal prepared by a pretty woman," Jess smiled and then they both walked outside, each man always ready for their job to suddenly become busy, but for the time being, it stayed quiet.

As the day started to draw to a close, Mort and Jess were inside of the office waiting for the clock to reach a certain mark before heading over to Mort's house. Just before that time came, Mort snapped his fingers, remembering a task he needed to do before going home for supper.

"I'm going to step over to the Laramie Gazette. I just remembered I promised Mrs. Stromboski that I'd let Waldo know that he spelled her name wrong in this morning's addition," Mort said as he put on his jacket. "She's hosting a quilting bee next Saturday, you know. I'll only be a few minutes."

"Sure thing, Mort," Jess nodded and then when the lawman exited his office, Jess sat down in Mort's chair, his feet instantly going to the top of the desk in a relaxing position, but his spurs shuffled the papers on the desk, causing a stack on the corner to flutter to the floor.

Jess groaned slightly as he came to his feet and then started picking up the displaced papers. Most of them were wanted posters and as he picked them up, he instantly began to categorize the posters from the miscellaneous articles that had been disarrayed. He tapped the stack of wanted posters together to form a tidy pile and then placed his hands on the other items but when he touched them, a sheet of paper slid from the bottom of the pile and when he reached to pick it up, the word "fire" in several places jumped out at him.

He couldn't stop the fear driven curiosity that nudged into his head so he began to read through the notice that was sent from a U.S. Marshal in Nebraska. Every sentence was enough to make his blood feel cold at the news that an arsonist had destroyed several buildings in a small Nebraska town. Jess hadn't been schooled in many hard to understand words, but arsonist was one he knew all too well. Some men just labeled them as "fire bugs" but Jess knew that they were far worse than any type of irritable pest. They were maniacal men like Frank Bannister who loved to torture for the pure pleasure of watching their victims suffer. Jess was a victim himself and he knew and understood how an arsonist did more than burn a building, but could char a soul.

The spareribs meal was as to be expected, sensational, but the complimentary word that Mort used to describe the feast wouldn't quite penetrate Jess' overfilled thoughts. He tasted the flavor and enjoyed everything he swallowed, but if there was anything else enjoyable, such as any family conversation, it went unnoticed. He couldn't get the Nebraska arsonist that was still running free out of his head and since the two fires in Laramie hadn't yet had a determining cause, Jess knew very well that they could have been started by the same man, if not, then someone with the same sick agenda.

Jess would have liked to have declined the invitation that went beyond mealtimes that offered him a room to sleep in one of the upstairs rooms in Mort's house, but considering his only excuse was to admit out loud that he'd been suffering from nightmares, he kept his reply as a singular, "thanks," and then went to bed. He wasn't always up at the crack of dawn at the ranch, but as soon as the first dim light of morning broke over the horizon, Jess was up and ready to go. This same routine, just with different foods served in the middle, were repeated without much change until a few days later.

It had grown to be a hot afternoon and most of the men in Laramie were seated somewhere in a saloon, replacing the heat from the outdoors with a different form of heat in the liquids that they drank. Jess and Mort were not among these men as they continued to fill their afternoon with making sure the town stayed peaceable. They now were just exiting the bank, as a teller had called them in because someone had left a piece of paper on the counter. Fearful it was a holdup notice, the bank teller didn't hesitate to wave a red warning flag but it was his face that turned crimson when Mort unfolded the sheet of paper to see it was only a misplaced shopping list.

"I didn't want to say the item on top of the list was material for diapers," Mort chuckled, "his face was already so red with embarrassment, I was afraid if I mentioned what was most needed would make him melt into the floor."

Jess stood next to Mort, not really listening to the sheriff's words as his senses were starting to become alerted. He didn't want to jump to conclusions when he knew it could have been just the smell from a chimney, but he had the warning to Mort starting on his tongue when he was silenced by one who really knew there was reason for alarm.

"Help! My shed is on fire!" The cry came from the feed store owner and it brought a swarm of men pouring from the saloons running in his direction along with Jess and Mort.

The fire was out almost as soon as it was started since nearly every man in town had been congregated in one location. Every hand that helped stop the flames from getting out of control now patted one another on the back, except for Jess, who stood slightly separated from the bulk of men with his head lowered, eyes fixed to the standing water outside of the small building that showed the reflection of the black wall of the storage shed.

Mort finished talking with the building's owner and then with a word of thanks to all of the men that helped win the battle, he stepped towards Jess, seeing the tension already mounting in his deputized friend. "I had just walked through there a few minutes before it lit up, Jess," Mort pointed towards the path that led to the storage shed as right before the bank teller had made his frantic shout, Mort had been searching the nearby alleyways for a little boy's lost dog. "If someone started that fire, I sure don't know how I missed seeing them."

"Then maybe there ain't no arsonist," Jess said the words slowly, getting Mort's clear attention as the lawman came to the realization that Jess already knew the ongoing threat that Laramie faced from the recent fires.

"I'm afraid I still can't answer that, Jess," Mort shook his head, wishing he'd thrown away the arson laced words the U.S. Marshal had sent. He was grateful that Jess didn't look like he was about to chew into him for perhaps withholding vital evidence before he pinned on a badge, but now that it was out in the open, with this newest fire he couldn't mince his words. "It started up fast is all that I know. It's possible that someone was smoking nearby or some kids were fooling around, but unless someone confesses, I still have to label this fire as suspicious."

"Just like the others were," Jess said grimly, "and if it's true, then there's gonna be more fires coming."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Jess sat at Mort's desk, his hands folded together resting underneath his chin. His black, sweat-stained hat drooped slightly over his eyes blocking out the images of the room, although even if his hat wasn't on his head at all, his eyes wouldn't be focusing on anything around him as his mind's sight was set on something entirely different, unwelcoming as it might be. There wasn't any lamps lit, only the dim glow that came from the building across the street that filtered through the windows provided any light for the room to show that the clock on the wall was near midnight and like several recent nights, Jess couldn't sleep. Or perhaps it was in total defiance that he wouldn't sleep. Nightmares couldn't come if one didn't dream.

Three days and just as many nights had passed since he'd been away from the ranch, each day rolled by with enough work to keep his mind alert but there was always an extra emphasis of slow during the nights. This was due in large part by being around Johnny and Carol every evening, as it just wasn't sitting right inside of him to be in their constant presence. They were too young, too cuddly, but that was to be expected since they'd only been married for four months, adding to that fact was that Johnny hadn't been recuperated from his gunshot wounds for long that he'd sustained when he adamantly wanted to help Jess with his deputy job. And then there was Mort, who seemed to never tire as he often stayed out late watching over the town, which left Jess alone in the lawman's house, sometimes rather painfully aware of that loneliness like he hadn't felt in a lengthy time.

Jess shifted his weight in the chair, the creaking noise that it made against the wood floor sounded strange to his ears and he involuntarily flinched because of it, bringing a slight rumble in his chest that reminisced a deep, cat-like growl. He hated every emotion that clawed at him as much as he hated the fires of his memories. Perhaps it was because they came from the exact same source.

Jess knew what Slim and Mort were doing, joining forces to help him overcome his fears and at first, despite the uncomfortable nights, it seemed that their plan was working, but then the storage shed behind the feed store caught on fire that afternoon. The returned scent of the smoke, the crackling of the flames, even though the building wasn't a total loss, it was enough to make him step backwards again. His mind had been full of the dreaded scenes ever since and there was nothing he could do to shut it out. If his anxiety hadn't been enough to drive him away, spending another night in Mort's house with Johnny and Carol would have done it. Lonely restlessness wasn't working for him anymore, so when the clock struck eleven, Jess stepped into the night, his footsteps loud on the quiet street as he made his way to the sheriff's office.

And there Jess sat, with nothing to keep his mind occupied but the terrible memories that haunted him. He had no peace, disturbed sleep and no hope for it to end. He had worried Daisy and Mike, belted Slim and was as irritable as a freshly wakened bear. Every one of these things was all because of Bannister. The name was enough to make him want to spit. Jess knew he couldn't fight a dead man. Frank Bannister had been buried and gone for over three years, but the burden that Jess had carried because of the depraved outlaw had been part of his life for so long, even the death of the one responsible wasn't enough to erase the agony. When the first fire shook the people of Laramie, the memories, the assault, every repugnant detail from the fateful day of his past had come back with such force it was as if there had been no time spanning the raid on his family instead of the lengthy time that it had been. And now it was like it was happening all over again, from the very beginning when he'd first laid eyes on Frank Bannister.

He'd often wondered how a man as vile as Bannister could be sent to jail and not sentenced to hang. He did what a lot of outlaws schemed to do when behind bars and that was escape. It had been easy for Jess to volunteer to hunt the convict down when Marshal Tram came calling as the knowledge of Bannister's escape had brought the revenge anew. He'd almost lost his life during the hunt and then Bannister's death didn't even come from his hands. Jess would have never admitted it to Clint Gentry or even his marshal friend, but he had felt slighted by not being able to have put the fatal bullet in Bannister, something he'd wanted, even vowed to do from the day the outlaw had burned his family out.

At the young age of fifteen, he had only one attitude, retaliation, but even then, he couldn't properly handle his emotions. Jess wasn't sure all of these years later if he felt any different. There might have been no need for revenge anymore, but the bitterness and the anger that came with the furious emotion was exactly the same, only now, he was no longer a kid but a much more experienced man and still, he couldn't properly handle his emotions. If he had, he wouldn't be sitting there at Mort Cory's desk waiting for the darkness to depart.

Despite the emotional battle that raged within, as the hour wore on Jess felt his body start to relax as a wave of exhaustion rolled over him. He stifled a yawn and then his head dropped, tucking his chin into his shoulder he closed his eyes, the sleep that he'd tried to avoid beginning to claim him. Silence and darkness was all that Jess knew as he hovered on the edge of wakefulness, but as the time of rest turned into a deeper sleep, Jess' body began to fight before the images even took shape.

Jess stood alone in the middle of a room, small and sparse, yet eerily familiar. The darkness was ominous, but it couldn't conceal that he was in his childhood home, the exact place where he was born. Jess looked down at his body, noting the size of his hands, the length of his legs and down to his feet, discovering that he wasn't an inexperienced kid anymore like he was the last time he'd stepped into the room, but a fully grown man. Jess turned a complete circle, seeing everything just as it was before the fire. _Fire_. The word was enough to set his heart rate into a rapid speed. Or was it more than that?

Jess heard a sound that dropped a bead of a sweat down his cheek and then he turned to meet the dangerous noise. A single flame, small, yet extremely powerful, crawled across the floor where it met the wall, exploding the entire south portion of his home into a crackling blaze. He couldn't move as it felt like his feet were locked to the ground as the swells of heat hit him in the face. Jess heard a shout, but this was not a voice of his family, but came from someone he'd called partner and friend. He turned his head, expecting to see Slim coming to his rescue, but there was only a single window, and this was filled with a cruel face, taunting and terrible as the mouth came open to expel a rush of sickening laughter.

Jess cried out, the agony that he felt on the inside was starting to compete with the terror he experienced on the outside. The laughter suddenly stopped as the window exploded, but not into tiny glass shards, but with thousands of little embers that rushed in all directions, searing everything they touched, including Jess' body. Ashes dropped from the ceiling, showering his head and arms with a fine layer of gray. He looked up, the disintegrating beams giving way to the black sky above, yet he still stood rooted to the same place, not darting away from what hurtled at him. The flames grabbed at him, daring Jess to fight, but when he stood his ground, the fire sent its oppressive partner to finish what it had started and the thick plume clutched his throat and shook him fiercely.

His nose twitched, his ears strained, and suddenly Jess was choking, the spasms clutching his chest as the smoke filled his lungs. He jerked awake, landing with a thud onto the floor but as his hands rubbed over his eyes, the twitching of his nose wouldn't stop, the sounds of fire still pounding in his temples. Jess shook his head hard trying to dispel the effects of his dream. They had always disappeared when he awoke, but not this time, because now, it was real.

"Fire!" The shout came from somewhere up the street.

Jess jumped to his feet, his heart racing faster than it pumped during his nightmare and he burst through the sheriff's office door and into the darkness of the night where the acridity of the smoke burned his nose and throat at his first intake of air. He looked to his left, but nothing but darkness and a few scattered lanterns met his view, but when his head whipped to the right, the glow of the flames on the outskirts of town flashed in his eyes like a lightning bolt had come from the sky. Jess' feet began to move in the direction of the inferno, knowing before he reached the perimeter what was on fire by the familiar voices screaming out his name. As he drew closer, with the structure in full view, inside of his chest, along with the constricting fears of his past came a sharp vice-like grip. Mort Cory's house was fully alight with flames.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

As Jess ran towards the burning building, a bolting figure from behind the barn caught his attention and he turned his head as his feet continued in the direction of the house, but the only detail he could make of the one that was fleeing was the gender and approximate height. The arsonist warning on Mort's desk seemed to tap him on the shoulder, but he put the cautionary thoughts in the back of his mind as the screams of Carol Hartley pulled him all the way to the front of the house, the blazing heat already reaching out in pulsating bursts touching his bare skin.

"Johnny!" Carol cried, her sobs muffling her repeated call to her husband as he tried to beat back the flames along the doorframe.

"I can't get inside!" Johnny dropped the blanket he'd been using as it had become part of the fire and ran backwards, nearly falling from the front steps as his wife threw her arms around him.

"Where's Mort?" Jess stepped close to the frantic couple, his eyes taking in the roaring mass of flames that devoured everything it touched.

Johnny and Carol stared wide-eyed at Jess, momentarily stunned they didn't say a word in response to Jess' question. Jess shouted a repeat and only then Johnny pointed towards the house, his jaw dropping open and then he found the necessary words. "He's inside … looking for you!"

"Me?" Jess murmured, stepping closer to the crumbling porch.

No one had known he'd fled the uncomfortable house a few hours earlier and now Mort was perhaps dying inside of the inferno because of him. Jess could hear the townspeople swarming, shouting, pumping water into buckets, but his eyes stayed locked on the hungry flames. He was jostled by an older man holding a bucket of water and as droplets splashed onto his leg, Jess grabbed the bucket from the man's hands and poured it over his head. Thrusting the bucket back into the puzzled man's direction, Jess jumped to the edge of the porch, the only part that hadn't been turned black and then he jumped through the shattered window, the shards of glass poking into his skin. He entered the blazing room, the image dangerously reminiscent of his worst nightmares.

"Mort!" Jess screamed, but the roaring flames muted his voice as the heat and choking smoke poured down his throat like he'd swallowed a chunk of burning debris.

Everything was on fire. The walls were a straight up line of flames and where it met the ceiling, they raced across like it was hungrily consuming its favorite fuel. The floor wasn't fully involved, only the carpeting that was bunched together in places had the highest flames. The furniture was bursting with bright color, only recognizable by the shape of the pulsating heat. Jess felt embers fall from above him, sizzling on his damp clothes and a small chunk of wood hit the rim of his hat, knocking the safety for his head aside, streaming a burn down the back of his neck. He put his hand over the smarting wound and looked up, seeing a familiar outline stagger from the top of the stairs.

"Mort!" Jess ran forward, his boots kicking the closest wad of smoldering carpet aside to give him a clearer path.

"Jess!" Mort's returned reply was raspy and choked with smoke, but it was a beautiful musical lyric in Jess' ears.

The bottom of the stairway was gone, only the top remained and that was quickly disappearing into the ominous tones of red and black. Mort took a shaky step, ready to jump to another hazard but suddenly the floor he stood upon collapsed, dropping his body into the middle of the flames. Mort thrust his arms protectively over his head, but the fabric that shielded him was soon afire. He heard Jess call his name but his own voice was silent with its reply. He closed his eyes as the burning on his skin felt like a hot knife searing into his flesh and then he dropped his head, gone were his senses of pain and smoke as the fire was ready to claim his life.

Jess tore through the fire, the stairwell falling around him in smoldering pieces, not caring that everything that touched him burned through to his skin. He saw a boot and grabbed it, pulling with all of his might until the unmoving body of his friend was fully extracted. Mort's clothes were burning, smoking, but it wasn't the sight that turned his stomach inside out, but the smell of burning flesh nearly made Jess retch. He didn't know if Mort was dead or alive, but Jess smothered the flames the best that he could on his friend's body and then hoisted Mort to his shoulder. Turning towards the front of the house, Jess gasped as there was nowhere to go. Even the window that he'd entered through had been obliterated. Jess saw the beams above him start to buckle and felt a scream tear through his chest as the vision of his youth assaulted him anew when he heard the faint sound of water splashing somewhere in front of him.

Even though the flames licked up at his boots as he walked, Jess aimed for where the doorway should have been and as he got closer, the shouts of Johnny's voice could be heard above the ever sickening din of the fire. Jess called out, uncertain if his smoke filled throat could make any sound but knew from the increasingly excited tones that poured from Johnny's mouth outside that he'd been heard. The buckets of water were hurtling at a rapid rate until Jess could finally see the outline of the doorway and freedom. He brushed through the dissolving doorway at the same time that the wall gave way, only surviving the flaming collapse by the crumbling building falling towards the flames instead of outwards.

Water hit him square in the face as every man holding a bucket doused the flames on his body and Mort's. When Jess put his foot on dirt, he literally felt the ground as the bottom of his boots had been seared away by the flames. Unknown hands took Mort's body away from his shoulder and Jess dropped to the ground, heaving as he pulled in more smoke into his lungs, but the cool night air mixed with the ashes brought him the necessary life into his chest. He felt female hands on his face and then a wet handkerchief was pressed to his neck, only then as the cold doused the heat did he remember he'd been burned there.

Hearing the worried tones beside him, Jess raised his body from the ground and searched for Mort, but his eyes were dry and his vision wasn't clear so he welcomed the same female hands that began to guide his arm to the tight cluster of bodies nearby. Jess heard the voice of Doc Sweeney and reached out a weary hand until he touched the physician, but his only response was a gentle, "I'll tend to you shortly."

"Is he?" Jess asked, but he couldn't tell if the sound from his throat was audible or not. He coughed and tried to walk but he staggered to the ground, only feeling relief when someone, perhaps the same female, applied more moisture to his face.

"I don't know, Jess," the voice was Carol's and then Jess wondered where Johnny was. As if she knew the imploring question in his head, Carol answered softly, "Johnny's helping them carry Mort to the doctor's office."

Jess opened his eyes, blinking them rapidly, but he felt as if they were full of burned debris. He took the wet handkerchief from Carol's hands and rubbed the corners of his eyes as they emitted tears that he had no control over until his vision began to clear. With the aid of Carol's hands, he stood and turned to view what remained of Mort's home. Nothing.

The men still fought back the fire even though the battle was already lost, but it was only to prevent the still leaping flames from spreading beyond the frame of the house. What once was a beautiful, well kept home was now a burning pile of unrecognizable belongings. Jess stared blankly at what was left, feeling like his body had been ripped into pieces. He was suddenly fifteen again. The eerie chills coursed through his body like the day of the Bannister raid as he had prepared to bury the dead. And now since he didn't know if Mort still held onto his life, Jess couldn't help but wonder if there would have to be another grave dug.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Jess sat alone in the front room of the doctor's office, his head bowed slightly as his eyes were riveted to the bandage on his hand. His burns had been tended to as he had reluctantly let Doc Sweeney go over his entire body, rubbing salve and aloe into every wound and then wrapped in loose bandages. He breathed a deep sigh that brought a rumble from his chest that emitted through his mouth in a raspy cough. He was whole. Burned, broken, beaten down, but he was still alive. Just like all of those years ago when he'd escaped the death of the fire of his youth. And just like then, he didn't know how or why.

Jess raised his head when the doorknob to an inner room was turned and Doc Sweeney came through. He held in his hand a badge, still shiny and untarnished by the brutal attack of the flames. He held the badge out for Jess to take and when he placed it in his palm he turned it over, rubbing the engraved words of "Sheriff" with his thumb. Jess looked up at the weary eyes of the doctor and nodded slightly and then Doc Sweeney silently went back to the room he'd come from and closed the door behind him.

Jess closed his hand over the badge and then looked down at the one that barely hung onto his tattered shirt. Gaping holes in the once blue fabric revealed reddened flesh and bandages, but around the pocket where the star's prongs still pierced it was whole. Just like the one that came from Mort. Even the raging fires of living hell couldn't tarnish the symbol of law and authority. Jess had a strange feeling of satisfaction in seeing the emblems unscathed, knowing that it was the same law it represented that would find the man responsible and make him pay heavily for what had been lost.

Jess glanced through the window as he heard a familiar stride approaching and as the first light of day dawned on the horizon, the door was opened and Slim walked in. Jess tried to speak but his coughs consumed him and Slim knelt beside his battered partner, placing one hand on a bandaged shoulder, the other one balled into a fist at his side, his emotions a tight mixture of guilt and remorse.

"I came as soon as I heard," Slim said softly as he observed every charred portion of Jess' clothes and the bandages the holes in the fabric exposed. "How are you, Pard?"

"Rough," a haggard cough followed Jess' one word reply.

"I'm sorry, Jess, I shouldn't make you speak," Slim said, his tone low, moisture not far from his eyes. "But, I need to know about Mort."

Jess nodded his head, swallowing to try to clear away the pain in his throat that was worse than any sickness that attacked the area around the vocal chords and then with a gentle sigh, he turned his eyes to look into the worried face of his partner. "He's gonna make it." It was whispered, but it was loud enough to bring a smile to Slim's face.

Doc Sweeney opened the door and leaned his head out and seeing Slim alongside Jess, he stepped through the doorway and approached the two men, his finger gently wagging in Jess' direction. "I thought I told you to not talk for at least six to eight more hours."

Jess shrugged and thrust a thumb in Slim's direction, his declaration to show as if the presence of his partner was enough to break the rules of doctor's orders. Yet as all three men in the room knew it wasn't often that Jess followed through with medical instructions anyway. They each found a smile and Slim stood, shaking hands with the trusted physician, the look in his eyes enough to convey his thankfulness for tending to his injured friends, but unlike Jess, who was often satisfied with simple explanations, Slim requested details from the doctor.

"Jess' wounds are mostly superficial. His burns should heal completely without scarring. His throat and lungs took a beating, but smoke will do worse things than that. If he keeps his voice low, preferably completely quiet, his energetic vocal arrangements should be back to normal in a few days."

"And Mort?"

"He's going to take longer to heal," Doc answered as he nodded his head. "The burns weren't his only injuries. The fall from the top of the stairs dislocated a shoulder and one of the burning rungs pierced his thigh. He covered his face with his arms, so there weren't any burns there, a few on his neck and chest, but mostly on his arms and back. His clothes sheltered him enough so that the worst burns weren't life threatening, but that was also because Jess was right there to pull him out of the flames extremely fast. As long as infection doesn't set in, I believe Mort will make a full recovery, although he's going to be in pain for a long time."

Slim began a discourse with the doctor, but Jess' mind completely blocked out what was being said. Jess had known some of what Mort endured, but hearing the words in greater detail began a swarm of thoughts and emotions running wildly in his head. Everything that happened to Mort was because of him. Jess felt completely responsible for it all. Even though there was nothing he could have done to stop the arsonist from starting the destructive fire, if he wouldn't have run from the anxiety when it started to hound him, he could have safely exited the building with Carol, Johnny and Mort at the first sign of fire. But Jess had been in the sheriff's office alone, fighting his menacing dreams that almost led to the death of one of his closest friends.

"Jess?" Slim said his name twice before his attention was grabbed. "I said you should get some sleep. I'll stay in town for as long as need be."

Jess opened his mouth to reply but Doc Sweeney cleared his throat loud enough as a stern reminder for Jess to stay quiet. He shrugged his shoulders and then stood, but instead of going towards a recovery room that the doctor was pointing to, Jess walked to the office door and stepped out into the early light. Slim stayed beside him, not commenting on his partner's slow, limping pace in his bare feet as they reached Mort's office.

Jess went inside first, rubbing a hand through his hair that still held a sprinkling of ashes and then ran the same hand over his shredded shirt, the action being noticed by Slim that his partner was in need of new attire. Jess wanted to drop into the chair behind Mort's desk as he had no time to sleep like he knew Slim wanted, but just to please his partner, Jess went into the first cell and laid down. He hadn't intended to close his eyes as the fears of his nightmares still played in his mind, but the extreme exhaustion weighing him down had its own ideas. Not long after Jess' eyelashes dropped down, a soft snore escaped his parted lips, this time, in a deep slumber where dreams went unknown.

Slim waited until he was certain Jess slept soundly before he exited the sheriff's office, his direction pointing to the mercantile. With a new hat, new boots and two shirts piled on the counter, Slim added a bundle of socks and long johns to the stack before dropping his coins into the clerk's hands, all the while explaining to everyone in the establishment that both Jess and Mort would recover. The questions he received were all to be expected, Slim understood as concern was written on every face as the talk of the fire ran through town rapidly. Every mouth that spoke showed the tension of fear as it was becoming obvious that the fires were all related, set by a human hand.

Slim returned to Mort's office, leaving the wrapped bundle for Jess on the desk. He sat down in the chair, his thoughts about the fire running almost as quickly as the gossip mixed truth that was going around Laramie. His worry was wrapped mostly around Jess, but Mort's escape from death wasn't far behind, pushing in was the ominous threat that the arsonist would strike again. Where and how soon, no one could ever know.

Slim didn't look up at the clock on the wall until he heard the stirring in the jail room, noticing then that Jess had only slept four hours, not long enough for an injured man, although Jess would say otherwise. He watched as Jess limped through the cell door and when he pushed the package in his partner's direction, Jess unwrapped the loose covering and with a nod of thanks, replaced his tattered shirt with a new one.

"You shouldn't be here, Slim," Jess spoke the words as loud as he dared, but his voice still didn't sound like it came from his mouth. He didn't care what Doc Sweeney would say, he'd been silenced long enough. He put on the new socks and then the boots, stamping his foot in the process to get the proper fit, but the action was also used as an emphasis on his next statement. "Someone's gotta stand guard at the ranch."

"You're injured, Jess," Slim raised himself from the chair and stepped close to Jess, tapping him on the shoulder as a reminder at just how much he hurt as he made Jess wince. "You should be the one to go home. Let Daisy take care of you for a while."

"You're forgetting something, Slim," Jess fastened the deputy badge to his new shirt. "Mort gave this to me. Yeah, I know, you could wear it just as well, but right now it's pinned on me and I ain't got reason enough to take it off just yet."

"But Jess…" Slim's protest was quickly cut off.

"I ain't taking any of them 'buts'. This star makes me in charge so I'm telling you to get home. There's an arsonist on the loose and he could strike again at any moment. Here in town or on the outskirts or twelve miles to the east. You've gotta be there."

"I understand what you're saying, Pard," Slim nodded as he reluctantly took a step towards the door as he'd been thinking about the ranch, Daisy and Mike himself, "but leaving you here alone isn't an easy task considering your…"

"My what?" Jess arched his brow. "My condition? I've been half-dead before and still been able to turn sidewinders inside out. Or maybe the condition you're meaning is what's up in here." Jess tapped his head, watching as Slim briefly dropped his eyes to the ground.

"I'm not here to lie to you or get your ire rankled," Slim answered softly, "but, yes, knowing what you've gone through recently I can't help but want to stand by your side through it all."

It was now Jess' turn to drop his eyes to the ground. He pulled a half smile to his lips and then he draped his arm over Slim's shoulder. "I do appreciate that, Slim. I reckon you're the only one I'd wanna have go through this with me, but we both have a different duty to perform. I ain't gonna shirk mine and I reckon you ain't gonna do so with yours."

"You're right, Jess," Slim nodded, keeping his eyes level with Jess'. "I'll go home and protect our family while…"

"…I protect everyone here," Jess finished Slim's statement, bringing a friendly smile to the two men's faces.

Despite their reassuring tones in their voices as they parted, there was a shared thought in both Slim and Jess' minds that brought a shadow of darkness inside of them. While they were busy protecting the town and their loved ones, if the worst did truly come, as long as they remained apart, Slim and Jess couldn't help but wonder: Who would protect each other?


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Jess emerged from the sheriff's office, taking an instant deep breath into his lungs to assure that there wasn't any smoke lingering in the air. It was fresh and clean, except with the normal smells a town like Laramie boasted which sometimes, if in the wrong place, could make a healthy man cough. He stepped across the street, pausing to greet various townspeople who inquired about his burns before he slowly made his way to the doctor's office.

It was now the second afternoon since the fire. Jess had already been back to Doc Sweeney's office twice since he'd exited with Slim the morning after. The first time was mainly for the doctor to make sure Jess hadn't unwrapped all of his bandages, the second time was purely just to visit with Mort, but both times that Jess had entered the room, the injured lawman had remained asleep. Jess was hoping that now, as more time had passed, that he'd find Mort fully awake.

"Doc," Jess poked his head through the doctor's office door and when Doc Sweeney lifted his head at his desk, Jess stepped inside. "Can I see Mort?"

"Sure, he's been awake much more today," Doc Sweeney nodded, motioning with his hand to the room where Mort rested, although Jess knew without the directory. "Don't keep him talking for long. His voice is still rather raspy and he gets coughing fits, like I suspect by the sound of your own voice, you still do, too."

"I ain't coughed since," Jess paused, trying to come up with a quick falsehood but when Doc Sweeney gave him a look that said "tell me the truth", Jess smiled and replied honestly, "since a few minutes ago."

"All right, Jess, go on in," Doc Sweeney pulled out the timepiece from his pocket. "I'll give you ten minutes, but if I start to hear excessive hacking coming from that room, I'll cut you off sooner."

"Thanks, Doc," Jess nodded and then with a light tap on the door, Jess walked in, seeing Mort's trusting brown eyes turn to him immediately as he entered. It was good to see him awake, as lying still like he'd seen before made Mort look more like a dead man.

"How's it today, Mort?" Jess asked, keeping his voice on a lower tone to try to prevent the cough from forming.

"I'm sure blamed sick of lying in bed, I'll tell you that," Mort's voice was a little above a whisper, but every word was full of smoky gravel. "But the hurting is fierce in places, so I suppose this is where I'm going to stay for a good while."

"I'm sorry, Mort," Jess said, despite the lower volume, the sadness in his voice was so clear that Mort rose up, grimacing with each movement to a seated position just to get a better look at the troubled man beside him.

"What are you sorry for?" Mort asked, although he had a good suspicion he knew what Jess' answer would be.

"That you almost died looking for me when I wasn't even in the house," Jess was almost glad that his voice was far from normalcy so he could easily dismiss the choked up feeling from his sorrowful emotions to being a symptom of the smoke damage.

"Oh," Mort smiled, shaking his head slightly. "I don't blame you one bit. Besides, you saved my life. I've heard the glowing details from the other night directly from Johnny and Carol's lips and let me tell you, their story paints a mighty picture of a hero named Jess Harper."

"Hero?" Jess almost laughed but stopped himself because the action in his throat started to bring on a cough. He turned his head to look towards the closed door, almost expecting Doc Sweeney to arrive to break up their conversation but when the door remained shut, Jess turned his eyes back to Mort. "I ain't a hero. I feel like just the opposite."

"Why?" Mort asked, his tone portraying that he was truthfully dumbfounded that Jess would even make that claim.

"You know my dislike of fires and such," Jess answered, even quieter than his voice spoke before.

"But Jess," Mort looked intently at Jess' face, "you didn't run from the danger. You jumped right in the middle of it to save me. A cowardly man wouldn't do that."

"I ain't saying that I'm a downright coward, Mort," Jess shook his head back and forth for a moment before he continued. "I still have enough fight in me to try to save a life, but, it's what them blamed fires do to me afterwards is all. Nightmares haunt me even when I ain't sleeping. I reckon there's more words I could use, but I ain't ever been partial to admitting my fears."

"Well, after what I just went through, I'm bound to be a little weak-kneed myself," Mort smiled for a moment and then his expression took on a more serious shade. "But really Jess, you're beating yourself up too much. You're a far greater man than you're envisioning yourself to be."

"I don't know about that, Mort," Jess shrugged his shoulders, not feeling the confidence in Mort's words as he should have, especially since they were true. "I ain't never been sca… I mean, I ain't never hated dreaming before."

"Son, it's all right to say you're scared," Mort looked deep into the troubled blue eyes of his friend. "I'll say it. I was scared when my house caught on fire; scared for me, for you, for Johnny and Carol. Does that make me a lesser man?" Mort waited until Jess answered with a firm, "no", before continuing, "then it doesn't make you a lesser man either. Fear is a natural emotion, Jess. Every single one of us faces it now and then in our lives. The fact that we can admit it helps show that we do not want to hide from it, but face it."

"But it ain't something I can control," Jess frowned, his hand going to his gun. He removed it from its holster and held it firmly in his palm. "This," the gun was slightly shaken, "this is what I can control. I can make a decision to pull it, aim it and fire it. Even if someone else is provoking me to do so, it still is my choice to fight with this gun. This dad-gum fear that I fight has made all the choices for me and I gotta take it without any say in the matter. It's like I'm stuck in a gunfight where my opponent's firing bullets all around me just to watch me jump. And that's only how it feels during the day. At night, when the images return, well, calling it a nightmare ain't doing how it feels any justice."

"I understand Jess," Mort saw the confusion on Jess' face and then Mort nodded his head, adding to the truth of his words. "I'm no stranger to nightmares. You don't wear a badge for as long as I have without facing some ugly dreams. I'd be lying if I said they didn't bother me, especially when I wake up alone in the dark."

"But do they ever go away?" Jess asked, not knowing if there was hope in an answer or just doubt.

"I believe they will, Jess," Mort said with a firm nod. "You're strong and you've overcome a lot of obstacles in your life. This one has a different hold on you is all. Just don't let it control you."

"Ain't I already let it done that?"

"It's got you in its grip, we both know that, but it hasn't destroyed who the real Jess Harper is. You proved by saving my life that you are able to face your fears and one of these days you'll be able to see that your strength had the power to get through this all along. Don't shake your head at me; I know this to be true because I can already see your true abilities shining through that smoky haze that has surrounded you. You're going to get through this Jess, you've already taken several steps in the right direction. First by tearing through the fire to rescue me, second you didn't run back to the ranch but you kept that badge on to help fight for the safety of this town and third, and perhaps the most important, you're looking inside of yourself for answers."

"But I ain't sure I wanna see what's down deep in there," Jess said at a pitch that was close to a whisper.

"Jess, when you look deep down inside of yourself you won't see fear, but you'll see the strong man that you really are. You've seen a lot of grief in your time, not just from fire, but from gunfights and really, from life itself. All of these things haven't happened to leave you traumatized forever, but you've been shaped by these same experiences making you into the man that you are today. Not a weak man, but a mighty strong one that I am proud to call as my friend."

"Thanks, Mort," Jess dropped his eyes to look at the floor as it was easier that way to avoid any other uncomfortable emotion from coming over him. He could live to be a hundred and still not like to show his tender sides.

"Well, I suppose that's enough personal talk for now," Mort smiled as his eyes were drawn to the badge on Jess' chest, feeling strange that one wasn't attached to his own, although he figured it would look odd being pinned to a bandage. "Let's turn to law. Learn anything about the fire?"

It was easy to slip from one topic to another. Jess nodded his head slightly when Mort switched subjects, noticing how the seasoned lawman took a turn to his job, knowing that Jess would not have been sitting idly in his office doing nothing while he took the slow steps in mending. Even though there had been times he had done just that, like the rest of the jobs Jess could handle fluently, he had kept himself busy with everything being a deputy included.

"It was an arsonist, Mort," Jess said the words that confirmed Mort's suspicions. "I saw a man running from your house when it was all ablaze."

"Get a good description?" Mort asked, his tone taking on its sheriff persona instantly.

"No," Jess shook his head. "Taller than me, fairly scrawny, but that could describe a lotta different men."

"That doesn't give us much to go on, does it?" Mort nodded and then sighed, leaning deeper into his propped up pillows. "Is the town in a panic?"

"Getting that way," Jess answered truthfully, remembering every frightened face that he saw while he'd walked through the street.

"They'll be on high alert for a good while," Mort said as his voice drew quieter, his exhaustion starting to take its toll. "Maybe that'll make the arsonist edgy and flee."

"To run to another town to do the same?" Jess frowned as he heard the doctor's footsteps coming in their direction, knowing that their time together was up. "No, if he's still around, I'm gonna find him. He's caused enough pain and suffering in Laramie."

Doc Sweeney entered the room and Jess stood, reaching his hand out to Mort. Both bandaged hands grasped one another and as Jess turned to leave, he added a silent vow to put an end to the arsonist. It wasn't just about him anymore. His nightmares and fears that were driven by the insanity of a man who felt power in fire had been a private fight, but now it was much more involved. Lives were lost, homes were gone, people forever changed. Jess would get him, but in making that declaration came the truth that in doing so he'd likely have to go head-on into a fire once more.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Jess rested his left elbow on top of the bar, his hand cupping his chin, without a glass of whiskey or mug of beer in front of him. Doc Sweeney had strongly advised against any strong brew from passing down his irritated throat until it fully recovered, and even though Jess had come through the swinging doors with the intent to disobey, the tainted scent of the saloon alone was enough to change his mind as every breath sent a shaft of heat down his throat. He reluctantly asked for a cup of water when the bartender, Freddie, asked, "what'll it be?"

Jess had been positioned at the bar for almost an hour, his glass of water remaining untouched as he watched and listened to the talk amongst the other patrons. The fires were the main topic as Jess had figured, but so far only talk of fear had pricked his ears and nothing about suspicion or blame. He sighed, touching the cup of water for the first time, but not bringing it to his lips. His movement caught the eye of Freddie, who still held out hope that Jess would be spending some of the coins that were concealed in his shirt pocket.

"The fire bug's got you just as provoked as everyone else in town, looks like," Freddie held a bottle of whiskey in his hands, trying to persuade with a little temptation. "Surely you need more to keep your stamina going than a little bit of water."

"I have plenty to keep going on, Freddie," Jess replied, not adding that what was really pumping his adrenaline was the same agitation that swirled around the townspeople, only his was differently defined.

"Glad to hear that the sheriff's getting better, anyhow," Freddie nodded, filled a fresh glass for a man at the corner of the bar and then returned to Jess, sloshing the whiskey bottle as he talked. "But from what I hear, he's going to be out for a spell. If you're going to be taking over full time until he returns to service, you'll definitely need some of this."

"Not today, Freddie," Jess cleared his throat, hoping that the noise would be a sufficient enough excuse for his refusal. It had been no secret that he had rescued Mort and sustained fairly serious injuries, but the fact that he'd chosen to ignore most of his pain made him look far more recovered than he was. Jess wished he could have the drink, but if he wanted to keep his voice, he had to avoid any fire in his mouth, liquid included.

"Well, some other time then," Freddie finally placed the bottle back where it belonged.

From a corner of the room, a stranger sat with his own bottle in front of him and struck a match, the sound of it lighting up turned Jess' head in his direction. There was nothing about the man that resembled the one that he witnessed fleeing the scene when Mort's house burned, but the tiny flame in his hand was enough to prick his senses, but Jess wasn't the only one. As he returned his gaze to the bar, Jess noticed every other eye was on the man in the corner, as he now lit a cigarette, blew out the match and then set the black-tipped sliver of wood into a chipped plate in the center of the table.

"I guess we're all a little on edge," Freddie frowned as he turned away from the nonchalantly smoking man in the corner. "What with all of the whiskey in this place, just hate to think what one little misplaced match could do."

"Yeah," Jess looked down at his boots, feeling like it was well past the time he should be getting back to the office.

"You know," Freddie stared almost blankly at the bar top, his words keeping Jess rooted to the spot, "I had a friend die in a saloon fire sometime back. It was intentionally caused by a fire nut. They say the man who did it didn't care what he burned, just as long as he burned something, but another friend of mine thought my buddy's saloon was specifically targeted because he caught the man playing with matches a day earlier. I've never thought much on it until now, though. Sure makes you wonder why any person would do such a thing."

"Why indeed," Jess said, his irritation mounting as his mind went instantly back to Bannister and his gang. They had no reason, only to be wickedly cruel to an innocent family. "I gotta get going Freddie. Thanks for the whisk- I mean, water."

"Anytime, Jess," Freddie said with a smile as Jess waved his hand and strode out the door.

As soon as Jess stepped into the sheriff's office, his hands shuffled the papers on the desk until he found what he was looking for. Once he held the notice from the Nebraska marshal in his hands, he read it twice before dropping the sheet of paper back onto the desk. There was no mention of any of the fires being targeted, but ever since Freddie's wonderings got Jess' own into motion, he couldn't help but run the possibility through his mind. He knew there was no evidence that indicated that the Laramie fires were anything but random burnings, but having the town sheriff as the latest victim seemed too strange to be coincidental.

Jess glanced at the paper on Mort's desk once more to jot in his memory the name of the marshal and then he exited the jail, heading in the direction of the telegraph office. He really didn't know how to phrase his question to the Nebraska lawman that had investigated the fires, so he stood still with pen and ink poised for a few minutes before he scrawled out his request. "Let me know when you get a reply," Jess instructed when he finally shoved the note to the telegraph operator.

"Marshal Pennington in North Platte?" The telegrapher raised an eyebrow.

"That's what I wrote," Jess said, ready to exit the building. "It's important, get it out quick."

"I'll do that, Jess, but there's a lot of ground to cover between here and there and from what's been relayed back and forth this morning, there's been some lines down due to some storms over that way. Tomorrow might come before you get your reply."

"Just do as I ask, all right?" Jess answered, noticing immediately that some of his normal gruffness, however still quieted, had returned to his voice.

Jess exited the telegraph building, reluctant to return to the sheriff's office to spend the remainder of the day that was quickly turning into evening alone. He saw the shingle that bore Doc Sweeney's name and he turned in that direction to see if Mort was awake. His stride still wasn't its normal pace, as he walked he tentatively took slower steps to help aid the burn mark that was chafing against his backside in his snug fitting pants. As he paused to adjust his gun belt around that same tender portion, Jess caught movement down an alleyway.

Suspicions highly aroused, Jess feigned that he'd seen nothing and continued onward, only to slip through the next opening beside the bakery until he was coming around the rear end of the alley where he'd thought he'd seen someone lurking. When Jess placed his back against the wall, he knew he heard footsteps and his gun now became fitted into his hand. Before he took a step to reveal himself to the intruder, the crackle of flames assaulted his ears. He firmly bit his lip and gripped his gun even tighter, his resolve to overcome any anxiety set in place. Jess stepped into the opening of the alleyway just as a tall, lean man set a burning crate against the bakery wall.

"Hold it!" Jess' shout was far from its full volume, but it momentarily froze the arsonist in place.

The man stared at Jess, his mind reeling as to how to escape. He saw the gun pointed at him, but he was unarmed, with no weapon except the fire and this he knew could do just as much damage as bullets. His hands were cloaked in thick gloves and without any fear of the flames, as he could say he easily loved them, he grabbed the burning crate and hurtled it at the unsuspecting deputy.

Jess jumped backwards as the flaming wood hit his chest. He fired his gun but only heard the sound of the ricochet as the bullet bounced from the side of the building. The arsonist was fleeing, but Jess couldn't run after him as he was consumed with stamping out the remainder of the flames before anything else could ignite. It took him a long thirty seconds to put out the fire and when his boot crunched only smoldering coals he raced into the street, hollering to anyone around to help him chase down the fool that had caused the turmoil to Laramie. If his voice had been strong he might have received the necessary aid, but it took too long for anyone to turn in his direction. As Jess came to the road that wound past the livery stable with a small group of men behind him, all signs of the arsonist were gone.

Jess turned abruptly, calling out instructions for everyone that was willing to mount up and start a broad search, but darkness fell fast upon them, nothing to see but the ordinary landmarks that surrounded Laramie. The man was gone. They returned back to town feeling defeated, the one feeling this emotion the strongest was Jess. He slowly walked back to the bakery where the crime began, checking everywhere for more evidence, but only a burned match lay in the dust.

A frown set on his face, with nothing more to note than before, Jess walked out into the street where the night sky spoke of rain. Jess felt the moisture touch his cheeks and breathed a sigh of relief. If rain soaked everything in Laramie, fire couldn't be started. If for only one night, the town would have relief. He went to the sheriff's office and sat at the desk, propping his feet up he dropped his hat over his eyes and although he would have rather stayed awake, Jess let sleep come and for the first time since the fires began, he slept until dawn without any violence wreaking havoc in his mind.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Deliberate, random, rapid burning, intense heat, deaths, injuries and fear. Jess mulled over a variety of descriptive words from the marshal's announcement that hadn't been removed from Mort's desk since he first read it about the arsonist that targeted a neighboring Nebraska town. Each one could fit almost every detail with what happened in Laramie, except for one: Mort's house. Jess tapped his finger over and over again on the word random, knowing that the arsonist that was ravaging Laramie could have picked the local lawman's house by pure chance, or, Jess moved his finger up a few sentences on the page and rested the tip on deliberate, it could have entirely been on purpose.

Mort's home was known by everyone in and around Laramie and even a stranger could easily discover its whereabouts in a short manner. Mort often left a note on his office door at mealtime where he'd be, and although the message didn't ever include a map, it gave an obvious sign that Laramie's sheriff didn't just reside in a bunk somewhere in the jail room like other lawmen in the west often did. A simple question to anyone would result in a quick answer that Mort's house was located not far from the edge of town. The barn, being the only one that stood so close to town, his den of pigs and the wide covered porch at the front of the house made the location easily recognizable.

Jess rubbed the back of his neck, more to touch the aggravated burn that was there instead of a subconscious movement of deep thought. He could run these same thoughts around and around in his head all day long but it still wouldn't get him any closer to an answer without further evidence. And with the two exceptions of the storage shed and the attempt to burn the bakery, if there had been any noticeable evidence to point to a random or deliberate act, they'd all burned to the ground.

Jess stood, his feet taking him to the doorway where he looked through the barred window, knowing that the westbound stage would be coming in soon. If his memory on the stagecoach schedules was accurate, Mose would be bringing in the late afternoon stage. Jess wanted to catch the friendly driver as he would be bringing with him any news from out at the ranch and what Jess especially wanted to know was that everyone was healthy and safe at home.

While Jess waited for the stage to arrive, from his position at the doorway he kept his eye on the townspeople that milled about the street, always searching for anyone that fit the description of the arsonist. There weren't many people in sight, in fact, one could call the town almost desolate. Freddie had mentioned the previous night when Jess was out making sure all of the town's business doors were locked that practically everyone was staying at home to guard their places and that his saloon was "as lonely as a skunk must feel with the way everyone always avoids them."

Jess smiled when the familiar sound of the stagecoach rolling into town met his ears. Seeing Mose holding the reins made him feel like a little bit of home had just come into town. Jess had spent many years by himself and could have been categorized as a loner at different times in his life, but unlike Freddie's statement the previous night, he would have never compared himself with a solitary skunk. He did bathe once in a while. But now that he'd been part of a real home, loneliness was far from a welcoming feeling and even just a sliver of home life that the stage brought was enough to bring a lift to Jess' burdened shoulders.

"Howdy, Mose," Jess called with a smile that brightened his face when the stage came to a complete stop. "How's everything back at the ranch?"

"Just fine," Mose said and then waited until the three passengers departed the stage before he turned to Jess with a lopsided grin. "But Slim says that he's got a long list of chores for you to do when you get back."

"Sounds like Slim," Jess crossed his arms over his chest. "Probably the only reason why he'd ever miss me in the first place is that there's more work to do when I'm gone."

"That's not what I hear," Mose laughed, giving Jess a pat on the shoulder as he did so. "Everyone's eager for your return, especially little Mike."

"Unfortunately I don't know when that's gonna be, Mose," Jess felt a sigh try to push through his lips but he let it go silent. "There's just too much tension going on here in town with an arsonist on the loose. With Mort still recovering, I ain't able to come home." Jess didn't add that he was still recovering too, mostly on the inside than his outer wounds. He couldn't even begin to analyze if any of those inside hurts had felt any touch of relief.

"I understand," Mose nodded as he craned his head to look up and down the main street. "I can't help but look for smoke every time I make my run and am always glad when I don't see any. Speaking of my run, I almost hit some fool cutting across the road a ways back. You'd think a man on foot would be a mite more careful."

"What'd he look like?" Jess asked quickly, every nerve in his body becoming alert since the two times he'd seen the arsonist he'd been running on foot.

"Oh," Mort shrugged rather nonchalantly, unaware that Jess was sensing a possible connection with the man he was after. "I'd say he was taller than you, maybe taller than Slim. Kinda skinny."

"Where Mose?" His level of alertness was even more heightened.

"About five or so miles back," Mose pointed towards the east. "After he scurried outta the way, I didn't see where he went after that. Probably was drunk or something."

"Thanks, Mose," Jess stepped away from the stage driver, his feet striding towards the livery stable.

It could be him. Although one wouldn't say that Mose's description would be concrete evidence, Jess knew it was as good as any other leads that might come his way. Jess saddled quickly, ready to take Traveler eastward, but even though he had a direction, where he'd go beyond that would be anyone's guess. Jess paused after he fitted himself in his saddle, momentarily wondering if he shouldn't be leaving to chase down a potential shadow, especially when sundown wasn't far away, but he also knew that any delay in action could result in someone else falling victim to the arsonist. Jess nudged Traveler into motion and they soon began covering the ground away from Laramie.

As Jess rode, his mind continued to play out any clues he had that might piece together an idea where the arsonist could possibly be going. If only the reply to his telegram had come from North Platte he might have had an advantage, but he still only held in his hands the evidence that he'd already known. Jess still had a strange notion that Mort's home was the key to unlocking any possible mystery behind the fires, but finding the connection so far had proved impossible, unless he could trace something from the very beginning.

Even though the scenes were ugly as they began to be replayed through his memory, Jess went over and over each fire with as many details as his mind contained. He'd strangely been involved in all of them, being one of the first to come to the aid of the Garrett children, discovering the Detering's home not only fully alight, but finding the two wonderful people inside had perished, and then Mort's home and both of their close calls with death. But there was a small fire in between the Detering's and Mort's house fires that Jess shouldn't forget. The storage shed.

What had Mort said after the flames had been beaten down? Jess had already been more involved in the images that rolled through his mind than the land that he was covering so it was an easy step to take to remember Mort's comment that at the time seemingly meant nothing, but now, perhaps it meant everything. "I had just walked through there … If someone started that fire, I sure don't know how I missed seeing him."

"Mort did miss seeing him," Jess said out loud, feeling like a dawning ray of light was shining on him, "but what if the arsonist didn't know that?"

Jess recalled the conversation he'd had with Freddie when the bartender recounted his friend's death, bringing up a theory that his saloon had been purposefully hit by an arsonist. Even though he hadn't received a reply from Nebraska's marshal, Jess already knew the connection would fit. Mort had been specifically targeted. His place was burned to the ground because the arsonist thought Mort had seen him.

Jess' pulse began to beat a little faster, because there had been one more fire on the list in Laramie. This one had never been fully started because Jess himself had stopped it. Alongside the bakery when Jess had come face to face with the arsonist, there was a flaming crate that neither man would soon forget. Jess felt the realization hit him in the chest with such a violent force that for a moment he couldn't breathe. He would be the next target, or at least, his home. The ranch! Jess nearly leapt out of the saddle as Traveler sprang forward as the race to save his family once more began.

Jess never had the thought that he could be wrong, but if it had been possible for a message to be relayed through air instead of over a telegraph wire, he would have received his confirmation. At that moment back in Laramie, a telegram was being delivered. With each word that the telegraph operator wrote down brought the news that the arsonist that hit Nebraska had targeted one house, that of a man who supposedly had witnessed the madman at work.

The man who'd hit Nebraska and the man who'd attacked Laramie were one and the same and now his fire loving hands were at work at a very familiar ranch and relay station.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Jess pulled Traveler to a halt on the rise above the ranch house, the scene below him as dusk was settling in was completely calm. If he hadn't been convinced the house, barn, or everything on the property was to be the arsonist's next target, Jess might have turned his mount around and headed back to town. But Jess would not be satisfied with one single look.

He led his mount slowly down the slope, his eyes watching everywhere for movement or anything out of place, and at first, he deemed everything that was meeting his gaze was normal, until he saw a flicker of light. A chair that always sat welcomingly on the porch suddenly burst into flames and in the darkening shadows, Jess saw a pair of hands shove it against the front door. Jess leapt from Traveler's back, his adrenaline pumping with every ounce of courage that he possessed and he ran to the porch, kicking the chair into the dirt in front of the house where it could burn down to nothingness. This action wasn't enough to stop the fury as the flames had already attached themselves to the front door and were climbing up to the window at a rapid pace. Jess turned, just as somewhere inside of the house Mike screamed. This was where it could have all ended if fear took control.

The fire knew nothing about a man's inner turmoil, or how loudly a child screamed, or that if it continued its menacing climb, it could destroy a home and cause more than one gruesome death. The fire only knew its power, but there was a man that knew this fire and he had a surprising amount of power of his own. And Jess was ready to use it.

When Mike's scream filled Jess' ears, there were no flashbacks, no pulsating reminders in his temples, and no traumatizing fears from his childhood clutching his chest. He felt his blood pumping through his veins almost as hot as the fire that clawed at the front door. Jess ran, his hands finding a bucket of water alongside of the trough and returned, drenching the door with its contents. The water sizzled against the flames and dripped onto the front porch and then with one swift motion, Jess' coat was stripped from his body, using it to beat the remaining flames down to nothingness.

The door was gone, but not a mark of fire could be seen on the inside as Jess burst through its opening. For a moment all he knew was joy when he saw Daisy and Mike huddled together by the dinner table, but then he heard the crackle of flames roar up once more. Turning quickly, Jess expected to see the fire coming from behind him, but the porch was dark and quiet. When a shrill gasp escaped through Daisy's mouth, Jess raced into the kitchen just as the window on the kitchen door exploded, not only glass falling to the floor, but angry red embers ready to light everything they touched.

Jess' feet were stamping the tiny flames faster than they could gather strength. A pot of water sat on the stove and with a firm hand around the handle, he flung the water onto the door, dousing the flames that tried to jump through the broken window. He kicked the door hard enough that it flung from its hinges and out into the dirt, watching until the remaining flames were a mere flicker on the ground.

He walked back inside and Jess was immediately embraced with two tight hugs. Daisy clung to him with muted sobs, but Mike wept openly as he stuck himself solidly to Jess' leg. Jess wished he could have stayed in this position for longer than the few moments that it was, but knowing that the arsonist could still be outside ready to strike again at any second, he pulled away from their shaking arms.

"Oh, Jess," Daisy quivered as she spoke, "it all happened so fast. I was so scared!"

"I know, Daisy," Jess kept his eyes moving from one end of the house to the other to assure there were no new fires being lit around the house. "Where's Slim?" Jess asked, his ears taking instant notice that the sound of his voice rang with its normal, firm tones.

"I don't know," Daisy shook her head as she drew Mike close to her side and began wiping the boy's wet cheeks. "He should have been in by now, but he said he had so much work to do."

As Daisy finished speaking, Jess turned his head and looked through the window and saw an outline of a man. It wasn't staring at him with a cold, sinister look, it wasn't even laughing. There wasn't even a face at all to trigger Frank Bannister's ugly memory. The figure outside was stealthily moving towards the barn and Jess knew then where the next sparks would fly. If the barn would become fully involved, a raging fire that size could spread to every building and nothing would be left standing.

With a command for Daisy and Mike to stay put, Jess ran through the open doorway with gun in his hand, his eyes searching everywhere for where the arsonist was poised. It was absolutely imperative that he find the man before he had the chance to light the barn on fire. Jess heard the horses begin to squeal inside of the corral and Jess jumped over the top rung, just in time to see a match get lit, a hand bringing it close to a puddle of kerosene.

"Stop! Don't you move! Don't you even take a breath!" Jess shouted as he aimed his gun directly at the arsonist's chest.

Two men holding two entirely different weapons stared at each other. For a moment, there was no time ticking by as everything came to a standstill except for the flickering flame that sparked brightly at the tip of the match. A gun, especially in Jess' hand, could be held in perfect position for a lengthy amount of time, but a match when lit, could only stand strong for a few grueling seconds. The small, yet hungry fire swallowed the tip of the match and crept down the thin stick until it reached a gloved finger, but instead of dying as it touched the kerosene tainted leather, it exploded.

The man yelped and Jess jumped, rolling the arsonist away from the kerosene soaked ground towards the water trough. In one swift motion, he shoved the flaming glove and the arm that went with it to the bottom of the trough, the fire dying as soon as it was submerged. Jess pulled the man backwards and the arsonist fell to the ground, clutching his charred hand close to his chest.

"You finally got burned," Jess ground out his words as he stood over the arsonist, "but I reckon you're bound to get more than that where you'll be going!"

"Jess?"

Jess whipped his head towards the barn at Slim's voice, but when he didn't see his partner emerge through the open doorway, he grabbed a coil of rope that was draped over the corral and tied the arsonist tightly to a post. Jess ran into the barn, but with only one lamp lit in a corner, with most of the barn covered in shadows, he couldn't see Slim anywhere.

"Jess, is that you?" Slim's voice held a strange edge of grogginess, coming from an empty stall.

"Yeah," Jess answered as he hurried to where the sound of Slim's voice had come from. He dropped to one knee when he found Slim laying on his side with his hands bound together behind his back and another knot that was tied tightly around his ankles.

"Is the house?" Slim shook his head trying to snap out of his dizziness. "Daisy? Mike?"

"They're fine," Jess answered truthfully, adding in his head that he was all right too, perhaps the first day that he could say that with honesty since the fires started in Laramie. "The only thing wrong with the house is that we're gonna need to get some new doors."

"He came up behind me and hit me," Slim rubbed the back of his head when Jess slit the ropes free with his knife. "He said he was going to burn everything down around us."

"He didn't get a chance," Jess helped Slim to his feet and then they walked side by side out of the barn.

It was an eerie sight with the two doors on the house completely gone, knowing that mere moments separated its saving and its destruction. There was a strange odor of charred wood and kerosene with the remnants of smoke in the air, but the blended concoction that met Jess' nose didn't make him shudder, but filled his being with gratitude instead. They were all alive. Perhaps not untouched, but unharmed. That knowledge alone was enough to bring a healing balm inside of Jess' heart.

Jess hauled the arsonist into town and the slamming of the cell door was emphasis enough that the worry was over, his and the towns. The fight had started inside of him, but had just come to completion right then and there. In a way, it was like Jess had thrown the memory of Frank Bannister inside of the cell too, right where it belonged; locked away and out of Jess' life.

It would be a few more days before Jess could take the deputy's badge off of his chest and when he did so, he placed the star that he'd polished into the capable hands of Mort. The sheriff hadn't yet fully recovered but was ready to be back on duty, even though he limped when he walked and groaned when he sat down, but as Mort had put it, "you, Jess, were in worse shape than I am now and fighting a ruthless arsonist, I should be able to handle this town!" Just before Jess departed, both men joined hands once again in a resolute handshake, this time without any bandages covering their palms, the thankfulness for each other conveying in their clasp and the light that shone in their eyes.

Jess rode home, coming into the yard well past the first hour of darkness and after he tended to Traveler, he slowly walked out of the barn, coming to a stop in the middle of the yard. Jess stood solidly in place, observing every detail of the place he called home with renewed appreciation. He'd come so close to losing everything once more. Jess knew that if he'd delayed anywhere on the trail that night the arsonist struck or hadn't followed through with any of his speculations, the lives of his loved ones would have paid a heavy price, and he, paying highest of all if he'd been the only survivor left of their close-knit family. He realized right then that Mort had been correct all along. Even when he felt afraid he didn't back down, because he was and always had been greater than his fears. Deep down inside, he finally could see the man that he was, shaped by fire, but never defined by the flames alone. In recent days and weeks, and even as far back as his fifteenth year, inside of him seemed to be nothing but a burning pile of memories, now that fire could be put out for good. Jess knew he'd never fully heal from the affects of fire and the loss of his family as a young man, but he knew that this chapter of darkness could be put behind him.

Later that night, after everyone else was asleep, Jess crawled into his bunk and pulled the blanket up to his neck without any thoughts that his night could be interrupted. If there was an observer watching as Jess' eyes were closed, they would see a man with the appearance of complete serenity. Gone were the shadows of fear and anxiety, the restlessness in his body didn't exist. A smile curled at the corner of his mouth as Jess fell into slumber, a picture of contented rest.

And his sleep was sweet.


End file.
